


Home (Show Me Where the Light Is)

by hopeintheashes



Series: Home [3]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Becoming a family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Note: the pandemic is the setting but does not infect the characters/loved ones/'on-screen' patients, more tags to be added as needed, quarantine/lockdown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeintheashes/pseuds/hopeintheashes
Summary: Hen's phone buzzes first. Four words from Karen: "They're closing the schools."Eddie, Christopher, and Buck, getting through the pandemic together.As it says in the tags: While the pandemic is obviously key to the setting, none of our characters, their loved ones, or any 'on-screen' patients are infected.Title from Gryffin & Illenium's"Feel Good".
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034745
Comments: 16
Kudos: 116





	Home (Show Me Where the Light Is)

**Author's Note:**

> The long-awaited quarantine fic is finally here! This story builds on the first two parts of [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034745), which are [Warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761647) and [Hazards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809359), but they aren't necessary to understand Chapter 1.

Hen's phone buzzes first. Four words from Karen: _They're closing the schools._ They're all exhausted and sweaty and soot-covered after a call where the thrill of the rescue had drowned out the buzz of looming fear for a little while. When Hen reads the words out loud, though, the news hits like an elevator drop. 

"What?" Chim, scrabbling for Hen's phone. "Let me see." When she bats his hand away, he hovers over her shoulder at the table, watching her scroll through the news. Bobby's standing at the head of the table, arms folded. Face unreadable. 

"Two weeks," Hen says. 

Eddie sits down hard. It's cold water on the back of his neck, running down his spine: unstoppable, inexorable, no matter how much you try to contort to try to get away. Someone next to him, moving in close. A hand on his shoulder. Buck. 

"Two weeks?" Chim echoes. "Do they really think it will be over that fast?" 

Bobby's voice is impossibly calm. "Dispatch is giving us half an hour after that last call. Grab a shower if you want one, get some food, and then we'll take a look at the news." His eyes on Eddie. "We'll figure this out." 

He's numb, the skin around his lips buzzing in a way that he associates with hyperventilating. He wonders if Bobby can read it on his face. Buck's hand tightens on his shoulder, but Eddie's on his feet and pushing past him toward the showers. _Two weeks._ He can't— he can't take that much time off work. Can't lose half a month's worth of income. He strips and stands blindly under the water, letting it pound against his skin. _Think._ For spring break, they'd had a day camp lined up. In the summer, it's a mix of camps, Carla, Pepa and abuela, some playdates and sleepovers with friends thrown in. He's seen the news, the health department press conferences: None of that is possible now. None of it. He's starting to feel dizzy with the way that his entire safety net is crumbling beneath him at once.

He can hear another shower turning on, the squeak of the knob and then the _thwack_ of the first rush of water hitting tile. He blinks and finishes rinsing himself off; grabs his towel and steps out from the curtain. 

Buck has the curtain of the next stall open, ready to step in, but he doubles back when Eddie comes out. He has that look he sometimes does: lips parted, eyebrows drawn, all concern. Eddie can't handle it right now. Or the way Buck's standing there, unabashedly naked in the florescent light. He shakes his head and goes, leaving Buck blinking after him in the shower spray. 

He gets dressed slowly, desperately unready for the "let's figure it out" meeting, but when he hears Buck's shower turn off he slips out the door. 

When he gets back to the table, Bobby is freshly showered as well, but Hen and Chim are where he'd left them. Hen's still scrolling through her phone. Chim's found a laptop, reading bits and pieces from the news. 

Bobby waits for Buck to appear, then straightens up, still standing behind his chair, like he's calling the meeting to order. "Okay. What do we know?" 

"Schools closed, two weeks, they haven't figured out exactly what that means," Hen says. "And they're telling everyone who can to work from home. Karen just got told that's what she has to do. And that Nia's daycare is closing at the same time as the schools." She shakes her head. "Both kids? And working?" Quiet. "Fuck." Chim claps her on the back. 

Bobby takes a deep breath through his nose. "This is going to be a different kind of challenge than we've ever faced before, that's for sure." He looks around at all of them. "I would love to say that we can take the weekend to figure this all out, but we're on again on Sunday and then on Tuesday as well. Maybe more," he says, and Eddie can feel the tension ratchet up around the table. "Every shift is going to be dealing with the same issues that we are, at the same time that medical calls will likely increase and our response times will need to account for things like donning PPE. Coverage is going to be a major concern. For now, we're going to get through this shift, and then we'll have tomorrow to figure some things out. We have some basic maintenance to take care of to make sure we're doing our part for the other shifts, but other than that, for the rest of shift, do what you need to when we're not on calls." He checks the clock. "Speaking of which, we're going to be back on in just a few minutes. Let me know what you need." 

He walks away, presumably to call Athena, but the rest of them sit there in stunned silence. Eddie's the first to stand, again, so abruptly that Buck, who'd pressed back in close while Bobby was talking, has to steady himself against the table. Eddie isn't sure where to go— his only thought is _away_ — and he ends up in the gym. Drops down on the weight bench. Stares across the way at the punching bag. 

Buck appears a minute later to lean up against the equipment. Of course he'd followed him down. When Eddie looks up at the balcony, Hen and Chim are no longer in sight. They might just be in the kitchen, still in earshot with the open-plan layout, but he'll take what little privacy he can get. 

"What are you gonna do?" Buck asks, even as the look on his face says he knows he shouldn't. 

"What _can_ I do, Buck?" Harsher than he means it to be, but this is his _kid_ they're talking about. "Carla's working while he's in school; she can't just cancel her other clients. And that's _if_ she can even keep working, which," now that he's thinking about it, "she probably can't; so we won't even have her for evenings and weekends. So that leaves," he swallows, "Pepa and abuela to what, cover whatever school is going to be? And I can't—" he's starting to feel nauseous— "I can't have him going back and forth from my house to theirs, not with the kind of exposure we have here at work, but they can't have him full-time, they'd never be able to handle it, and, oh God—" his lungs seizing at the thought— "my parents are gonna try to take him to Texas; Jesus Christ, Buck, and they can't— it's not—" Buck's coming for him; he's dizzy and hot and the room is starting to sway dangerously— "it's not _safe_ —" and Buck's there, pushing him forward to get his head between his knees, holding him steady with one hand firm on his chest and the other moving in circles on his back. 

"We'll figure it out," Buck says, and Eddie's already so fucking sick of hearing those words. He pushes away from Buck and tries to stand, which turns out to be a terrible idea, and drops down on the weight bench again. 

"Everyone keeps saying that," he spits out, head hung low again, trying to get things to stop spinning. "It's like the 'thoughts and prayers' bullshit. There is no figuring this out." A wash of hot-cold nausea again, and he has to breathe very deliberately through his nose. 

Buck squats down in front on him, hands on Eddie's knees, and Eddie wants to tell him that that's a very dangerous place to be right now, but doesn't dare open his mouth to get the words out. 

"Eddie." Thumbs moving against Eddie's thighs. "Listen to me. _We_ will figure this out. You got that? _We._ " He's quiet for a minute, looking earnestly at Eddie in a way that's too much but also the only thing holding him together. "Where's Christopher now?" Buck knows the answer, so he must be doing some sort of grounding shit. Eddie hates how well it always works. 

"With Carla," he says grudgingly, forcing himself to exhale. 

"With Carla," Buck repeats. "So he's safe?" 

Eddie nods, and Buck squeezes his knee a little bit. "Tell me." 

"He's safe," Eddie says, and his voice is choked but he feels a little less like he's going to lose it. 

"For the rest of this shift." 

His head is pounding as the blood rushes back in. "For the rest of this shift." 

"And then we have Saturday to figure out Sunday, and Monday to figure out Tuesday, and then we have four days off and then we'll be halfway through the closure, right?" 

Halfway. He's not completely confident about that timeline, but the alternative is too much to think about right now. "Yeah." 

"So all you have to do—" hands on Eddie's chest and back again, holding him steady as he sits back up— "is get through the rest of shift, and since he's safe and being taken care of by one of the most amazing women on the planet, that shouldn't be too hard, yeah?" 

"The rest of the shift." He's blinking, trying to get the rest of the gym to come into focus. He hates the adrenaline letdown that always follows a fight-or-flight surge of panic; it makes him feel shaky and sick even when he's not as fucked-up as he apparently is right now. He thinks that part of the problem is that he's been watching the inevitable come closer all week, like another damn tsunami wave threatening to sweep them away, and now it's here and they're fucking drowning where they stand. Buck's watching him, eyebrows raised. He takes another breath and pushes himself to his feet. 

"C'mon." Buck's at his elbow, not quite holding on but definitely braced for the possibility that Eddie might go down without warning. "Let's get you some water." He ghosts a hand over Eddie's back and flashes a half-smile. "One thing at a time." 

. . .  
  


The alarm goes as soon as dispatch makes them available again, and they're off: a gas leak that takes all their concentration followed immediately by the kind of traffic-slash-crowd control that makes him want to give up on L.A. and move to a deserted island somewhere. He's wrung out by the time they're back in the truck, on edge and exhausted, and he blows out a half-frustrated breath when he catches Buck staring at him like he's trying to read his thoughts. Like the air in the truck is a telegraph wire. As soon as they get back, Buck follows Bobby into his office and closes the door.

Eddie sits on the couch and stares at his phone, at the news, like it will tell him what to do. _Stay home, stay safe._ Yeah, he doesn't have that kind of job. _Two-week closure._ Chim's doubt ringing in his ears. _Keep your distance._ From who? The people they go out to rescue every day? From his co-workers, next to him on the line? From Pepa? From _abuela?_

He knows the answer to the last one, at least, and that's what finally sends him, shaking, to his feet and through the bathroom door. He'd thought that maybe puking would bring some relief, but all it brings is another adrenaline surge, and the taste of stomach acid that he can't rinse out of his mouth, and pitying looks from Hen and Chim when he comes back out. They're smart enough not to ask if he's okay, but Hen goes to the fridge and hands him a can of Coke, and he lets the freezing cold and the bubbles numb his tongue. There's a rush of shame that he can handle the life-and-death of combat and calls, but he can't handle whatever the fuck this is. (This is his _kid,_ some internal voice says, and yeah, that's exactly it. His kid and his abuela. The two most vulnerable people he knows are also the two he's most directly responsible for keeping safe, and he doesn't fucking know how.)

Buck emerges from Bobby's office when Eddie is two sips in, just starting to recover, and stops short when he sees Eddie's face. That fucking look again, all concern, and there's a part of him that wants so desperately to have Buck's hands on him again, holding him steady in the storm, but it's overridden by the static of _no, not here. Can't let them see you cry._ Buck glances over Eddie's shoulder and then his eyes snap back to Eddie, coming closer, and Eddie can only conclude that Chim had filled him in via mime behind his back. He closes his eyes. Can't take the weight of everyone else's gaze. Focuses on the weight of Buck's hand on his shoulder instead, steering him toward the bunks. 

"Are you okay?" Because Buck can't stop himself from asking. He's the one person Eddie is willing to hear it from (Buck and Christopher and abuela, and that's it, that's the entire list in the whole damn world), but he's also the one person Eddie can't lie to, at least not for long. 

"Buck," he says, and his voice is choked, and his breath tastes sick and awful. He lets Buck sit him down on his bunk. 

"I know." Contrite. Hovering. "Sorry. I—" and he stops, working his lip between his teeth, not quite sure what to do with his hands. 

"What were you talking to Bobby about?" Half curiosity, half distraction technique.

"I worked it out." Quiet, gaze down. 

"What?" Genuine confusion at that. "Worked what out?"

Buck looks him in the eyes for just a moment before dropping his gaze again. "I talked to Bobby. I'm gonna switch my shifts. He said it should be easy enough to find people to swap with. Everyone's going to be scrambling to change their schedules in the next couple of days." 

"But why would you—" The words are out before he puts the pieces together, but he knows the answer before he finishes the thought. He knows, but makes Buck say it anyway. 

"I can take Christopher," Buck says, like it's the obvious choice. "While you're on shift. If." He looks up again, uncertain. "If you're okay with that." 

"Buck," he breathes, because it's too much, it's too fucking much. 

"Take him like me going to your house, obviously," the words spilling out. "And I'll be so careful, Eddie, so fucking careful, shower and change my clothes after shift and wipe everything down—" 

Eddie's shaking his head, but it's not refusal, it's disbelief. 

"Please, Eddie. You said—" He swallows. Starts again. "Let me do this. For you. For Chris." 

His head is exploding. "I can't..." Digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars. "I can't do this right now." 

He can't see Buck, but he can feel the insecurity and the hurt radiating off of him in the uptick of his breath. "Yeah, okay. I'll just..." Eddie can picture him, arms wrapped around himself protectively, trying for casual and calm, looking everywhere in the room but at him. 

_Fuck._ "Buck," he says, one hand still covering both his eyes. He reaches out blindly, and for a moment there's nothing, and then a sharp inhale, and then Buck's fingers in his. "I'm not saying no. Hell, I can't think of a single reason I _would_ say no; I just." Deep breath. He squeezes Buck's hand from behind closed eyes and gets some pressure back. Reassurance. "Need some time." 

Buck nods, probably; at least, he nods again when Eddie manages to get his eyes open to squint up at him. 

He's not going to be able to stay upright much longer. He digs around in his bag for painkillers, and finds them, and swallows them dry. Buck makes a noise like he's offended on his stomach's behalf, but Eddie can't bring himself to care. When he swings his legs up onto the bed, they feel like lead. "Wake me up if I sleep too long?" he asks, and gets that phantom nod in return, like Buck keeps forgetting he can't see him with his eyes closed. "Thanks," he says as he's fading out, and it's not enough, and everything's too much, but it's all he's got right now. 

He wakes to half-darkness in a way that's disorienting until he realizes that someone— Buck— has turned down the bunkroom lights. He can't figure out what time it is, but it does seems to have been long enough for the painkillers to kick in. He forces himself up and gets to the door before he realizes he's in his socks, shoes still back by his bed. He considers going back for them, and doesn't. 

There's not an entrance to the dining area, exactly, but he leans on the railing at the border between the hallway and the open space. Buck and Hen and Chim are at the table, talking quietly. When Hen looks up and sees him, she nudges Chim and looks significantly in the direction of anywhere-but-here, and with a small sigh, Chim follows her out of the room. Buck looks at him, and away. He looks like shit. Like he's spent the last however long Eddie was asleep beating himself up for trying to help. 

"Hey," Eddie says, because he doesn't know how else to start. 

"Hey." Quiet. Subdued. 

He turns the chair next to Buck so that it's facing him head-on and sits down. Looks at him for a minute. Then: "Are you sure?" 

"Fuck, Eddie," Buck breathes. Then, stronger: "Do you think maybe I asked myself that question before I went and made it all official?" 

"I think that you throw yourself in front of bullets first and ask if you should've later. Or not at all." Looking at him intently. 

This look, passing over Buck's face. He doesn't say anything, just sets his jaw. 

"The answer is yes, by the way," Eddie says, because how could it have been anything else? 

A smile, slow and spreading. Relief and pride. "I told you. We'll figure this out."

**Author's Note:**

> (to be continued)


End file.
